❝𝗧𝗘 𝗔𝗠𝗢 ━━ 𝗕𝗧𝗦

yoongi: ❝ romance's grave ❞

a/n: font in italics is a memory from the past.

yoongi's always found it romantic when you wore his clothes, whether they fit you or not, he's just never found you anything less than lovely whenever you were in them.

"you're up early," you mumble through sleepy yawns, smiling as your boyfriend kisses you good morning the second he sees you awake.

he pulls away, "work - good morning, though,"

you nod, taking in how he was already in his suit and tie. you wonder if he was only waiting for you to wake up before he did.

you yawn, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, and you ask, "would you drop our laundry cleaners?" at the dry

"i've got nothing to wear." you say, still a bit tired.

yoongi smiles, nodding, "i don't mind that."

"you've got nothing to wear either." you match his expression, rolling your eyes playfully at his words.

he nods again, shooting you a look, "you don't mind that."

"you're awful," you tell him, laughing, feeling an immense warmth in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss again.

slow mornings, honey-dipped words, and languid kisses that yoongi hates pulling away from. things you do every day, yet never fails to send butterflies down his stomach.

he mumbles against your lips, "ask me to stay."

"work." you remind him, smiling as he groans.

yoongi looks at you, sitting by the edge of the bed, and his voice is warm. "I'll come home early."

"i might not," you yawn, "busy day at work."

you sit up, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, and he marvels at the fact that they always looked better on you than they did on him.

yoongi always liked it when you wore his clothes, it reminded him of the little things that embroidered your relationship together.

it reminded him of high school; the excitement of getting handed the captain's jersey for the first time, and the glory of seeing you wear it the morning after.

it reminded him of halloween; the two of you dressing up in similar costumes (that you didn't even plan) and being mistaken as a cheesy couple.

it reminded him of graduation; the second button from his school uniform torn off as he bashfully gave it to you as a symbol of his affections.

his clothes on your body it reminded him that you're as much as his as he was yours.

"is this my last shirt?" he asks you, taking the fabric you wore in between his fingers.

you fall back in bed, "yes - go to the dry cleaners, please,"

"i will," he tells you, kissing your forehead one last time before he gets up to leave, and he contemplates if missing a day of work would be worth it to spend the lazy morning with you.

you bury your head under the pillows, "go to work, stop staring at me,"

yoongi laughs, walking out the door, and he double checks for the small flower clip that he never leaves without.

the clip that you gave him to secure his long hair for the first time the two of you met, and now he's sure that if he's lost it, he might as well lose everything else.

there's little bits and pieces of you in the clothes he wore, there's little bits and pieces of you everywhere he went.

little bits and pieces here and there to immortalize the proof of your relationship existing.

but marriage, as much as everything else, is too romanticized for its own good.

you married yoongi out of love and romance, promises of a future together and vows of roses to make garlands, you married him in romance, a chance to build something new, something romantic-but marriage is hard.

marriage is coming home to a cold bed and waking up to an empty one.

marriage is eating dinner alone, and understanding when yoongi has to cancel date nights because he has to work overtime.

marriage is icy arguments and sleeping on the couch, because marriage, as much as it was romantic, was also so hard.

yoongi sighs, a heavy feeling in his chest as he enters your bedroom, tired and worn thin from another restless day at work, and the only thing that makes it worse is the fact that you had to go to bed alone again tonight.

he watches you sleep, not in the way he used to, not in the way he wanted.

"i'm sorry," he says, getting in bed with you, aware of the unnerving amount of space between you and him, and he wishes that he came home sooner to see you today.

you were probably getting tired of this, huh?

it's been icy lately the few times he'd get to see you are moments and glimpses, and even then you'd always appear to be less and less content with how much you two have been seeing each other.

yoongi lays down next to you, unsure if he should wake you up, or just let you be, but he doesn't - he'd never - hesitate to put his arm over you, and pull you close.

he was getting tired of this too.

he tells you, "please don't leave me,"

and the romance is gone. it left with the flowers along with the date nights and sentimental dinners. it left with dancing in the rain and kissing under the snow.

it left you and yoongi with nothing else but a marriage that replaces romance with love.

and that love blooms in more ways than one it blooms in kissing you on the forehead before yoongi leaves for work every morning, it blooms in the way his heart never tires of anticipating seeing you at home after a long day in the office, and it even blooms in him insisting to be the one to sleep on the couch after an argument.

it blooms in a crippling fear that puts a stone in his stomach, painting a nightmare of you leaving him and walking out the door with your bags.

his voice is soft, "i can't do this without you,"

love grew flowers in romance's grave, and yoongi's willing to make it count.